Ehow articles and snotty hunters
by Storybelle
Summary: The first time Dean gets flu after being raised from the pit Cas is at a loss of how to help him. But that doesn't stop him from trying. Dean might just end up dead. Prompt: sickness. Destiel and shameless fluff


**Prompt #57: Sickness**

The first time Dean gets the flu after being raised from the pit, Castiel is at a loss of how to help him.

Sam and Bobby will not let him heal Dean, insisting that this is nature's way of telling Dean to slow it down a little bit and get some rest and that mojo-ing it away is no good for Dean's immune system. Sam adds, in a somewhat softer tone, that he knows Cas does not like seeing Dean in pain but Cas will not always be around to heal Dean. Bobby mutters under his breath that Cas' insistence that he heals every tiny scrape on Dean is just over-protective anyway.

Cas does not entirely understand this. Surely it is his duty as his lover to take care of Dean?

"Well, yes, but not everyone has an angel for a boyfriend," Sam explains patiently. "If you want to help, make him tea or soup or something. That's what normal people- I mean, what humans do," Sam hurriedly amended as Cas fixed him with an icy stare.

So Cas borrowed Sam's computer and did some research on how to take care of people when they're sick. Cas shuts down the computer when he's finished and ponders for a little bit. He highly doubts that Dean will let him do anything to help and Sam has already had to drag Dean back to bed twice today. But Cas is willing to make tea or fetch medication so he goes to the bedroom that has been designated to Dean for this trip. The room is stuffy and smells a little bit rank, tissues flung all over the nightstand from where Dean has aimed for the bin and, in his sickly state, missed. There are used cups and a sick bowl ("Just in case," Sam had muttered darkly as he'd placed it by the bed) but no Dean.

Castiel is not surprised. But all he has to do is listen out for the ever-present hum that is Dean's soul and follow it to the living room where his other half is curled up in an extremely ugly yellow blanket and watching TV.

"Dean," Cas says reproachfully and Dean starts. "You should be in bed."

"I'm bored," Dean snuffles and wipes his nose on his sleeve. Cas thinks that humans are extremely disgusting when it comes to bodily fluids and that they don't care where they put them. Nonetheless, he switches off the TV with a wave of his hand and gathers up his snotty boyfriend, only wincing slightly with distaste at the blanket.

"Yes but the internet says it is best to stay in bed and gets lots of rest," Castiel says.

"Oh, well, if the internet says so…" Dean mumbles grumpily. "Cas, there's nothing to do! I hate being stuck up there. And no one will come near me, in case they catch it."

"I'm an angel, I can't get ill," Castiel says automatically, mind ticking away. Sam and Bobby said he couldn't just _make_ Dean better but he could fulfil his duties as an angel and Dean's significant other by caring for Dean as humans do: and he won't catch Dean's cold so he can do it properly instead of the half assed job that Sam and Bobby are doing now – which pretty much involves poking their heads around Dean's door and asking if he's dead yet. The more Cas thinks about it the more genius it is. There's a little bubble of excitement in Cas' gut – he enjoys doing things the conventional human way even if sometimes it seems trivial and far too difficult. And Dean is disgusting and half-asleep so he won't have any protests about Cas doting on him.

"We should get you back to bed," Cas says, taking Dean by the arm. He'll need to have another look at that 'Ehow' article but he's pretty sure he gets it. After all, it can't be that hard. It's only the flu. Humans are so fragile. How much trouble could he be?

Cas takes Dean by the arm and briefly considers 'mojo-ing' him upstairs but Dean probably won't appreciate it while he's feeling so unwell. Such an action might make the sick bowl necessary. So instead he tugs gently and leads the hunter upstairs slowly, pausing when Dean has a coughing fit on the landing.

Cas vanishes all of the snotty tissues into thin air and then plumps up the pillows before pushing Dean down into bed and tucking the covers in around him. When he brushes some hair away from Dean's red rimmed eyes, he frowns at the stickiness and warmth of Dean's skin.

"You are not to get out of bed again," Cas says sternly. "If you need something, you will tell me."

"What if I have to piss?" Dean asks weakly. Castiel ignores him, searching through Bobby's cupboards for another blanket. He finds the thickest, least ugly one there is and arranges it carefully over Dean's body.

"Maybe you should have a shower," Cas says. "The internet said that steam is good for this sort of thing and it would help you feel better. Besides, you smell unpleasant."

"Thanks, Cas," Dean says around a deep cough. "Kick me while I'm down."

"I would never kick you," Cas replies seriously. "I'm going to go start the shower for you. We should wash your hair."

"We?" Dean asks in excitement. "Does that mean you'll come in with me?"

"We are not having sex, Dean," Cas calls over his shoulder as he makes his way to the bathroom. He can dimly hear Dean cussing at him but he has far bigger problems. The shower dials.

Castiel pushes aside the shower curtain and studies them carefully. He reaches out and turns one cautiously only to be drenched in ice cold water. Cas spits out a mouthful and turns it off again. He's very tempted to use his powers for this but he's determined to do this the human way (and vanishing those tissues did not count. Immune to human disease or not, deep and furious love for Dean or no, he's not touching those.)

It takes a lot of cursing, mistakes and being sprayed in the face before Cas gets the hang of it. He manages to make the water an acceptable pressure and temperature – just the cooler side of lukewarm, better for Dean if he is getting a temperature like Castiel suspects - before closing the curtain again and going to fetch Dean. His lover snickers at the sight of him.

"Woah, Cas. Have a fight with the shower nozzle or something?" he asks, clearly delighted at the water soaking every inch of the angel. Castiel sheds his coat and jacket and firmly rolls up his shirt sleeves, ignoring the fact that the white cotton is soaked through and is clinging to his body very provocatively. This fact does not escape Dean who is eyeing him with some interest. It amazes Cas that very few things can hinder Dean's sex drive.

"The shower is running," Cas says pointedly, bending down to help Dean out of bed. He deliberately leaves the disgusting coloured blanket behind, even though Dean shivers without it.

In the bathroom Cas patiently strips Dean and pushes him gently into the shower. Dean whines and bitches and complains frequently while Cas stands at the door, watching the faint outline of Dean's body through the curtain. When Dean goes quiet, that is when Cas pulls the curtain back and finds Dean leaning against the wall, looking pale.

"Got dizzy when I tried to wash my hair," Dean explains with a tired, 'please don't panic' smile. Castiel studies the hunter for a moment, then the shower and then after a moment's contemplation, climbs into the tub as well.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean yelps in surprise. Castiel stands fully in the shower, still dressed, everything from his tie to his socks under the warm spray of water. His hair is plastered to his forehead and his intense gaze under the stream of water makes Dean suck in his breath. In the steam and torrential water sliding over Cas' cheekbones and clinging to long, dark eyelashes, the angel's bright blue eyes stand out. In paintings and pictures that little children colour in and hang on the fridge, water is always blue but it has nothing on Castiel's eyes. Although, Dean has trouble remembering at times that this is Jimmy Novak's body. He doesn't know what Cas' true form is like but he sometimes wishes that Cas has those same blue eyes. Dean will always know Cas by those eyes, even if he were another person entirely, not only for their seriousness and intensity and the downright beautiful blue of them but because Cas is the only one who looks at him like that. A combination of loyalty, faith, exasperation and love. That's all Cas.

Cas turns Dean around gently – for an all-powerful angel Cas is always so gentle with Dean – and has him lean against the wall for support. Cas picks up the shampoo bottle and begins washing Dean's hair, pouring the sweet smelling liquid into his hands and lathering it into Dean's hair. Dean closes his eyes, partly out of pleasure but because Cas does not understand that it's not pleasant for humans to have something in their eyes and is not as careful of Dean's as he should be. Dean grips onto the shower rail tightly because the heat is getting too much and the water feels like pin pricks across his skin but then an arm wraps around Dean's waist as support and manoeuvres Dean under the spray to wash the shampoo out. Dean flinches from discomfort but Castiel is quick and efficient, rinsing Dean's hair and deftly washes Dean's body, every nook and cranny. Dean groans deep in his throat as long angel fingers run over the inside of his thighs, his collarbone, his backside, but they never linger there long. If it had been Dean he would have groped but it never occurs to Cas. He's on a mission. Get Dean clean. No distractions.

Finally, it's over. Still soapy, blinking water out of his eyes, Dean is lifted – lifted! – out of the shower and wrapped in towels and vigorously rubbed dry. He is hauled back to the bedroom and briskly dressed in fresh pyjamas and stuck back in bed, under a mountain of blankets. When it's done, Dean grasps the hideous yellow monstrosity to his chest with a slightly stunned look, suspecting he'll never have another shower quite like that again.

To be honest, that was not how he had hoped for his first shower with Cas to go.

"Are you warm enough?" Cas enquires. Dean nods and Cas looks pleased.

"Good. I believe next on the list is sustenance. The internet says soup is crucial to this kind of ailment." This jolts Dean out of his military operation shower induced shock enough to say "What? Crucial? Cas, what have you been reading? Soup is not going to help!" But Cas is gone and Sam finds him five minutes later, standing in Bobby's kitchen, staring at the fridge as if it might tell him something.

"Cas? Are you alright? What was happening upstairs…Why are you soaking wet?" Cas looks down at himself. He'd forgotten that he was still wet from having climbed into the shower with Dean.

"I gave Dean a shower," he says calmly but Sam does not look reassured by this. If anything he looks slightly worried.

"A shower? Really?" And then Sam blinks and Cas is dry again, hair perfectly brushed back, shirt sleeves neatly rolled up although the tie was still crooked. Cas has never managed to get the hang of ties.

"Woah. Whatever. He needed one anyway, he reeks. But what are you doing?" Sam flinches in surprise as Cas walks to stand in front of him, way too in his personal space. God, how does Dean put up with this?

"Sam, how do I get soup?"

"Soup?" Sam asks in surprise. "Why do you need soup? For Dean?" Cas nods and Sam thinks.

"I've gotta go out to the store anyway. I could buy soup." Cas seems to find this acceptable.

"Thank you, Sam. That would be very helpful. The internet said that it should be chicken." Now Sam looks really worried, expression twisting at Cas' words and the memory of another time Castiel thought all answers lied with the internet.

"Cas, what have I said about the internet?" Sam asks sternly. Cas blinks his big baby blues and, as usual, misunderstands him.

"Did the internet lie? Should I give Dean another flavour of soup?" Sam curses the day when Dean decided falling for an angel would be a good idea. It's been nothing but headaches and awkwardness and brain bleach.

"No, not about the soup. I'll get Dean chicken noodle. But I thought we agreed you shouldn't look things up on the internet anymore? Remember?"

"But that time I had to, you and Dean made it very clear that I should not discuss those kinds of things…" Cas protests and Sam holds up a hand to interrupt him.

"I know we said that and fine, I get that discussing certain…topics to either me or Dean is going to be very uncomfortable –for us anyway," Sam muttered as Cas gets embarrassed about very few things purely because he does not understand that he _should_ be embarrassed. "But you cannot type things that like into Google!" Cas looks down at the ground, remembering, a little bit shamed about that particular incident.

"It was a little more explicit than I care for," Cas says. "However, it did not seem appropriate that I discuss my relations with Dean to you."

"Yes, but you learnt the hard way that if you type things like that into Google, you're going to see a guy bent over a kitchen counter, covered in caramel," Sam counters.

"It was very educational," Cas says with a straight face. Unfortunately, Sam knew that it had been. He'd found the empty caramel tubs in the trash the next day.

"Just…no more internet searching without me or Dean to supervise, ok?" Sam says firmly. "I'll get soup and some aspirin too."

"And pie," Cas adds, following Sam out of the kitchen to the living room.

"Really? Dean's ill, he's not gonna want…" Sam paused mid-sentence, bending over to pick up his wallet and jacket.

"I think that if Dean wants something, his being ill will not stop him," Cas says dryly. "I think pie may be useful as a tool to keep him in bed."

"I can think of another way for you to bribe Dean to stay in bed but you'd probably think it was unethical," Sam quips, shrugging his jacket over his massive shoulders and waving the Impala keys at Cas. "I'll be back soon, alright? You're in charge of Dean. _No mojo-ing him_."

Cas' reply is to shut the door behind Sam.

When Cas reappears upstairs without soup Dean stares blankly at him. "What happened to 'the internet says soup is crucial'?"

"I realised that I am incapable of cooking for you. Sam went to retrieve food for you instead. Drink this." Cas pushes a glass of water into the hunter's hand and Dean has drained half of it before pausing to take a breath.

"Heh. Guess I was thirstier than I thought," Dean says sheepishly.

"The virus will make you dehydrated. Are you warm enough?" Dean starts to protest as Cas leans over him to press a hand against Dean's forehead.

"You asked me that, like five minutes ago! I'm fine. Too warm actually," Dean says, lying still when he realised he couldn't very well shrug off an angel hell bent on checking his temperature.

"You are too warm," Cas frowns. "Your body temperature is at least 37.8°C."

"That's not that warm," Dean interrupts but Cas cuts him off.

"It is still considered a fever," Cas says anxiously.

"What a surprise, seeing as I have the flu," Dean says sarcastically. "Look, I'll be ok. I just need a cold towel or something." Cas nods and hurries out of the bedroom, towards the bathroom. He soaks a washcloth in cold water, folds in up and returns to Dean, pulling several layers off his lover and placing the cold press against his forehead.

"Maybe I should Google this," Castiel frets, sitting at Dean's side on the edge of the bed. Dean is collapsed back on mountains of pillows, eyes shut and pale as Death. The urge inside of Castiel to just press a hand against Dean and take all of that aching and heat and pain away is almost too much to bear. Dean has been wounded before but now Cas feels helpless. He cannot make this go away. He has to wait. He doesn't know if he can. After all this is _Dean_. He raised him from hell, brought him back to his body and Sam. There's very little he wouldn't do for Dean.

"What?" Dean asks blearily, cracking open an eyelid at Cas.

"The Ehow article was not informative about fevers," Castiel explains. Dean groans lightly in his throat and then jumps when Cas is immediately all over him.

"Cas! Lay off! I can't cool down with you smothering me!" Dean yelps and then regrets it as hurt floods Cas' eyes. Dean immediately feels a kick of guilt. Cas is only trying to help and to be honest, Dean likes it a little. It's been a while since he's had anyone to fuss over him and worry about him like Cas is now.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Dean says remorsefully. "Just relax ok? I'm not gonna die. I just caught the damn flu. Probably from that snot nosed kid. Did his mom never teach him to cover his mouth? I mean, she was sitting right there while he was coughing away and…" he is cut off by a swift kiss to the mouth, firm and insistent but brief. Before he can respond Cas pulls away again, reaching up to brush away a stray droplet of water.

"I know you will not die," Cas says seriously. "I would know if you are in any true danger. But I have never encountered something like this before."

"Flu?" Dean asks and Cas gives him a bemused look.

"Human illness. How to care for it. But you are uncomfortable and in pain and I cannot make it go away. It's frustrating and I feel useless," Cas confesses. Dean huffs in exasperation: the sound is almost a laugh.

"You'll get used to it. This is only the first time. A year from now, when I get a cold you'll be a pro and telling me to quit whining like Sam and Bobby do." Dean's eyes flutter shut so they do not see Castiel's startled expression but he does feel the feather light caress to his cheek.

"You believe that we will be together in the future?" Cas asks softly, tracing his fingers over Dean's cheekbones.

"Why, you're not thinking of leaving me, are you?" Dean cracks open an eye suspiciously. Cas is quick to deny it.

"I would never…!" But then Cas stops when he sees the glint and Dean's smirk and knows that Dean is playing with him again.

"Good," Dean says with some satisfaction. "I wouldn't let you leave me anyway. What kind of guardian angel would you be if you skipped town?" But Castiel knows that this also is in jest: Dean's real feelings are, as always, hidden behind riddles and a joke. But after almost a year of Dean Winchester, Castiel understands what the hunter really means and loves him all the more for it.

"An inadequate one," Cas agrees, resisting the urge to spoil the moment by checking Dean's temperature again.

"It's just as well you're a pretty good boyfriend then," Dean murmurs, being lulled into sleep by Cas' rhythmic stroking.

"I asked Sam to get pie for you," Cas says solemnly and is rewarded with a kiss to his palm.

"If that's not devotion I don't know what is," Dean declares and pulls Cas further onto the bed with him and leans against his chest. Cas swings his feet onto the bed and wraps an arm around Dean. The crisp cotton of the angel's shirt is rubbing into Dean's cheek and there's the stiff material of a tie wedged behind his ear but Dean is comfortable, the most comfortable he's been for the last few days all because Cas is rubbing the back of his neck and warm and firm under Dean's fingers.

They stay huddled together for a while, Cas watchful, Dean dozing until there's the purr of the Impala in the drive and Sam's arrival announced noisily by a slammed door and a welcoming call.

"Sam's here. Shouldn't you see to that 'crucial sustenance' or something?" Dean asks reluctantly with a yawn. Cas looks down at the flushed, sleepy hunter in his arms and thinks of the years to come; of a different kind of showering together (one where they're both naked and more likely to end up dirty than clean) and sleeping, pressed together, in the same bed and feeding soup to a stubborn, ailing Dean.

"It can wait," Cas says firmly and, with Sam's earlier words in mind, sets about making sure that Dean will not want to leave the bed for the next two hours at least.


End file.
